


Until it Breaks

by cornheck



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Fever, Hurt/Comfort, Other, they/them pronouns (for Kurapika)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-17
Updated: 2019-03-17
Packaged: 2019-11-21 08:32:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18139868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cornheck/pseuds/cornheck
Summary: After the hostage negotiation takes an unexpected turn, Kurapika struggles to cope with the mistakes they've made to put their friends in danger and jeopardize the auction. Holed up in an abandoned squat-house, Leorio gives them a few stern words of advice.





	Until it Breaks

**Author's Note:**

> yeah, hi, i updated this fic; kurapika uses they/them pronouns

Tucked covertly into the crevices of the city, Kurapika, with their friends and allies, takes shelter in one of the few abandoned buildings suitable for squatting. With all that had transpired between the Phantom Troupe and themselves, it was no wonder Kurapika had collapsed.

“Their heartbeat is abnormal,” Melody notes, sitting perched on the edge of the mattress, careful not to impose on them too closely.

Leorio straightens his posture, wetting a rag with cool water and settling it on Kurapika’s forehead, “They have a fever,” he retorts. “The symptoms don’t fall in line with anything I’ve encountered, or even read about.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Melody says, her eyes not leaving Kurapika’s fatigued expression. “I don’t think they will be able to accept the events that have occurred,” she murmurs.

“How do you mean?” Leorio turns to her, leaning back in his chair.

She frowns, “One of the other men working for our boss has been killed by the Phantom Troupe, and the scarlet eyes we secured for the Nostrades were stolen. Our employer has decided not to proceed with the auction. I, myself, can’t quite comprehend all the things that have happened in the last twenty-four hours. The only thing I can say with certainty is that nothing is as it appears to be. It seems the same can be said for whatever ails Kurapika.”

Leorio’s chest heaves with a breath, lowering his head. “I don’t know how to treat this… but we can’t go to a hospital for help, not with the Troupe still trying to find them.”

“I understand,” she hums. “If it’s any consolation, I doubt that medicine can do much for them, anyway. I believe this episode may come to pass without intervention,” Melody gingerly extends a hand, cupping one of Kurapika’s in her own. Her attempts to soothe him only go so far, quieting his chills when they emerged. “It may be the result of having expended their aura. Perhaps, as a specialist, they’ve succumbed to a rare and violent exhaustion... With time and care, I’m hopeful they’ll recover.”

“I sure hope you’re right,” Leorio grumbles. “I just want to be able to tell them I did everything I could to help.”

She affords him a warm smile, “You already have,” Melody says. “By giving them your attention, your care, you are already doing all that you can for them. I imagine they’ll be able to appreciate that.”

The reassurance she offers is a welcomed luxury. Without it, Leorio thought it likely he’d be unable to relax as long as Kurapika was laid up. With a deep breath, Leorio takes the rag from his patient’s forehead and replenishes it once more, wringing it out in the bedside basin.

It’s then that Kurapika stirs, just barely. Even Melody is struck by their waking.

Kurapika’s voice is weak, strained, but they speak nonetheless, “What time is it?”they ask. 

“Past three o’clock,” Leorio answers, meeting Kurapika’s far-off stare as they turn their head to look at him.

“So, I’ve been out for almost a whole day,” they adopt a defeated expression.

Leorio subtly shakes his head as Kurapika’s gaze wanders the foreign room. It’d been, in reality, over two days, but he can’t bring himself to correct them. 

Leorio finds himself cycling through his thoughts, his worries and doubts, as Kurapika and Melody recount all that’s happened between the Troupe and their Mafia connections. He can only sit there, as if on the sidelines, as they discuss business until, finally, Kurapika passes out again. Admittedly, it startles them both. Melody hadn’t even been able to tell as they slowly drifted out of consciousness. 

Tucking the sheets back over Kurapika’s body, combing the clinging, sweat-soaked hair away from his face, Leorio resumed his watchful care with Melody by his side. It seemed his resting heart-rate still raced wildly regardless of their consciousness. He had no name for it, no diagnostic understanding of their ailment, but Leorio wasn't one to abandon his patients, even for a moment. He'd stay, no matter how long it took for their fever to break.

After days spent in hiding, Leorio still hasn’t left their side. From the depths of their dreams, Kurapika stirs. Dark waves of Aura mesh with undulating patterns of light before his eyes are open. They wake, tense in the shoulders, jolting upright in the bed where the others placed them. They don’t detect the resistance against their shoulders when they tries discarding the sheets laid over them, but they’re finally halted when they try to stand up.  _  Stop _ , they hear, just barely. A command to stay put. Making futile efforts, again, as they try to resist the grip, they’re met with an even greater force. Too dizzy to stay upright, Kurapika’s body yields under the pressure against their chest, “I’m fine,” they protests. For days, now, they’ve drifted in and out of a conscious state, sometimes awakening with sweats, other times they awoke trembling with violent chills that wracked their bones.

“You’re burning up,” Leorio groans. At Kurapika’s bedside, calmly obscuring his frustration, Leorio re-adjusted the sheets around his patient to keep him planted firmly in bed. For a moment, his frustration dissipates with a thought; and perhaps it was a grim thought to consider, but it almost calmed him to think it. He’d passed the Hunter Exam. If he could get Kurapika through this affliction, he thought, medical school was sure to be a breeze. Though he smiles at the notion, it doesn’t last long before it fades. Watching Kurapika struggle in this miserable state pains him. In the short time he’d known the other, never had Leorio witnessed such helplessness from them. It was like they were a slave to their own rage. 

Since they’d met, Kurapika had been the stronger one, the tactical master with an iron will. Leorio has kept a close enough eye on them to deduce that they weren’t contagious; this was the work of stress, not a pathogen, but the elimination of disease from the diagnosis does nothing to reassure him. He can’t help but fret over how high their fever has spiked. Stress or not, if it persists, Leorio worries, Kurapika will sustain irreversible damage from the high temperature alone. As powerful as they are, Kurapika is not infallible. _ If their fever doesn’t break soon _ , he thought,  _ they’ll have won a battle only to lose another _ . Eyeing them as they lay limply in bed with their hair, like drowned silk, strewn over the pillowcase, it seemed as if that iron will were beginning to rust.

For the time being, it seemed like Kurapika would remain awake. It had already been nearly twenty minutes and they hadn’t fallen unconscious. Instead, they continued to insist upon sitting up. Their arms shake incessantly as they raise themself up, breathing labored. Leorio doesn’t hinder them this time, almost certain they won’t have the energy to move much further anyway. With all their strength, Kurapika collects themself and runs a hand through their hair, sweat plastering it to their scalp, fingers combing the dampened strands away from their face.

Gently placing a hand at their shoulder, Leorio extends a cup of water. “Here,” he offers.

“I can’t,” Kurapika sighs. “...I feel ill,” they add.

Leorio grunts, “So you admit it,” he says, lips pressed tightly in a flat line. “You’re too stubborn for your own good, you know that? You’ve been losing fluids nonstop for almost two days, Kurapika. You’re gonna need to replenish them so you don’t dehydrate,” he asserts, holding the cup closer to his face.

Kurapika averts their eyes from Leorio’s, “I don’t think I’d be able to keep it down,” they mutter in their own defense.

“Then just take it one sip at a time,” Leorio continues to try convincing them.

A moment of hesitation passes before Kurapika takes it in their own hands and carefully begins to drink. It doesn’t take them long to abandon Leorio’s advice, sips turning to gulps until they’d downed it completely. Leorio waits a second, then retrieves the cup from their grasp with ease. Within the passing of a mere few minutes, Kurapika relaxes against the wall which framed their bed on the side opposite Leorio. 

For a moment, he wonders if, once more, they’d succumbed to fatigue. That being the case, he didn't doubt it were possible. Their body was looking for rest wherever it could. It isn’t until they speak again that Leorio is convinced otherwise.

“Where are we?” they ask, slowly pulling their legs toward themself to cross them in their lap, adopting a meditative pose. With any luck, they’d be able to heal themself with aura, or so Leorio hoped.

“An abandoned building on the old west side,” Leorio answers. “Killua lucked out finding this place, I guess those assassins really do know their way around the underworld,” he cracks a grin, smiling for the first time in days.

Sitting in the silence, it takes another moment before Kurapika speaks again, “Killua, and Gon,” they mumble, “Where are the boys?”

This time, Melody answers, “They’re fine,” she says.

“Gon and Killua are in the next room,” Leorio adds, though regrets saying another word the moment Kurapika tries to leave the bed again. “Don’t,” he protests, “Really, I’d let you walk, but I don’t think it’s safe,” Leorio gripes, not hesitant in the slightest, this time, as he places his hands firmly on Kurapika’s shoulders. It earns him a furious look, but he doesn’t relent. 

“Please, Kurapika, stay put,” Melody urges before they can argue, “I’ll go and check on them.” She wasted no time in leaving the room to seek them out, leaving Kurapika to huff as they thought only of resisting his advice.

“You have to take it easy,” Leorio re-asserts, “The way you’ve been passing out and coming to, I have to insist you stay in bed. I don’t wanna risk you having some kind of dizzy spell.”

“I’m fine,” Kurapika nearly hisses, shrugging their shoulders forcefully to free himself of Leorio’s hands, though they remain unrelenting.

“Speaking from a medical standpoint, you clearly aren’t,” he says, finally liberating them of his grip, meshing his fingers together in his lap. He tilts his head to confront Kurapika’s downcast stare, “I overheard Gon telling Killua that he hopes you stay bedridden long enough not to do anything reckless again,” Leorio huffs. “He thinks that as soon as you regain your strength, the first thing you’re going to do is throw yourself back to the Spiders—like you’ve got some kind of death wish—is that what you  _ want _ ?”

Through clenched teeth, Kurapika retorts, “I can’t stop now,” they utter, “I can’t stop until they’re dead—”

“Don’t be stupid,” he interjects.

Kurapika tenses, lowering their head. Even from beyond the threshold, Melody could sense their rage at such a brash command.

“You’re delirious,” Leorio frowns, “You have to be alive to take them out,” he continues, the tone of his voice softening. “I want to support you, but I can’t sit idly by while you throw your life away.”

“This isn’t your burden,” they argue.

Leorio lets out a sharp breath, “Like hell it’s not. We’re friends, Kurapika—all of us. Your troubles are our troubles, there’s no distinguishing whose burden is whose.”

“My life,” Kurapika replies, “means nothing if I can’t complete my mission.”

Leorio groans. “Bullshit. You’re a survivor, aren’t you? Start acting like one.”

“Leorio-” they object, but they can’t get a word in fast enough to put up a fight.

“You ought’a treat yourself with a little more value, Kurapika,” Leorio shakes his head. “None of us are willing to let you do this if it kills you.”

They deflect, though it doesn’t seem to impede Leorio’s efforts to dissuade them from their path of self-destruction, “You don’t understand,” Kurapika insists, brows crossing in frustration, “You don’t understand what I’m feeling, what I’m going through—” 

“Maybe I don’t,” he mutters. “But you don’t seem to understand how much you mean to me.”

With that, they freeze. Leorio’s words make their throat feel tight. The room is silent. Kurapika can’t muster a response with merit enough to quiet Leorio’s concern. Gritting their teeth, they unfurl their crossed legs and lie back down in bed, tired eyes still fuming with anger. This shouldn't involve them. It was never supposed to involve any of them. They weren’t ready to concede defeat, either, not out loud.

Turning their back to Leorio, Kurapika does all they can to obscure their face. They can’t help but think to themself, now, that it was a mistake to tangle Leorio and the others in the Spiders’ web. This should have been their fight, and their fight alone. After all, that had been their objective from the beginning, since before they took the Hunter Exam. Now they can only curse themself for letting their friends put themselves in so much danger. They should have been the only one at risk, now their mere existence was a threat to them all.

“Please, Kurapika,” Leorio pleads. “We’re not ready to lose you.”  
  



End file.
